“Let me make it up to you,” she pleads, and I roll my eyes. “A date, sugar. Just a date. You were head over heels for me just moments ago.”
I fix my bag on my shoulder and watch as the man takes a picture of me, and then waves smugly.Shit.
Brooke turns to follow my gaze, but I quickly shake my head. “I have to go.”
“Jas—”
“I said I’ll think about it.”
I walk off before she can stop me. The knot in my stomach tightens with every step. I glance behind me.
The man starts walking.Oh fuck me, if it can get worse, it always will -- Murphy’s law.
I duck around a row of dorm buildings, pulling out my phone with shaking fingers, and hit the one number I probably shouldn’t have memorized, but do.
Landon picks up on the second ring. “Peach.”
“I’m being followed,” I say, low and fast. “Tall guy. Neat clothes. No backpack. Looks like he irons his socks.”
“How close?” Landon’s voice drops an octave.
“About a hundred feet back. Picking up speed.”
“Where are you?”
“Behind Briar Hall. Cutting toward West Commons.”
“Good. Turn right at the next maintenance shed. You’ll see an alley between the dumpster and the brick wall with the spray paint dicks. I’ll meet you there.”
“I swear to God, if this is a setup and you’re gonna murder me?—”
“Peach,” he growls. “Just move.”
I jump at his command and push my short legs to walk even faster than before. I almost slam into the wall as I turn into the alley, shadowed by the academic buildings, narrow and lined with broken glass and the stench of wet metal. My boots echo off the walls as I hurry down it, breath catching in my throat when I hear the man’s footsteps behind me picking up so much speed, I almost trip and fall over my own two feet trying to keep as much space between us as possible.
I glance over my shoulder.
He’s there, my stubby legs burning as I try to move faster than I am humanly capable of. My heart slams against my ribs as I stumble forward, nearly tripping over a loose bottle.
“Landon,” I hiss into the phone. “Where the hell are you?—”
I spin around again preparing to claw his fucking eyes out when my eyes lock onto the scariest, and possibly hottest scene I have ever seen in my life.
Landon has the man by the throat, slammed against the graffiti-tagged brick wall like a ragdoll. One hand locked tight around the man’s windpipe, the other pressed flat against his chest like he’s pinning a moth to a board. The guy’s feet dangle, heels kicking against the wall with short, panicked jerks.
Landon’s face is blank. Cold in a way I have never seen, and probably would shit my pants if that look was ever directed at me.
“Lan—” I start, but he doesn’t look at me.
His voice is low, barely more than a growl. “You thought you couldtouchwhat ismine?”
The man wheezes, eyes bulging, lips turning a sick shade of gray.
“You thought I wouldn’t find you? That I won’t eradicate a wasteman like you?” Landon snarls, slamming him harder into the wall, brick dust puffing out behind his head. “That I wouldn’t rip you apart in the middle of this alley and leave your body for the fucking raccoons?”
“Landon!” I rush forward, grabbing his arm. “Stop!”
He still doesn’t look at me. His finger flexing along the man’s windpipe as if this isnothing,as if attempted murder isn’t a horrific thing.
